


Captain Flint's Pirate Booty

by bazemayonnaise (Ninjaninaiii)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Blood, Fake/Pretend Relationship, James is an actor, M/M, Romcom bullshit, Thomas is a politician, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjaninaiii/pseuds/bazemayonnaise
Summary: Thomas was alone in the darkness, standing still and taut as he listened to the sounds around him. He attempted to level his breathing, knowing that fear was the least helpful reaction he could be having. He had to think proactively. He had to plan. How to escape, how to free his fellows. How not to die.AKA. Thomas punches James in the face, and James uses it as an excuse to fuck with the crew.





	Captain Flint's Pirate Booty

The ship creaked with the lull of the waves, the candles flickering gently with the air whispering through the wooden boards. 

Thomas was alone in the darkness, standing still and taut as he listened to the sounds around him. He attempted to level his breathing, knowing that fear was the least helpful reaction he could be having. He had to think proactively. He had to plan. How to escape, how to free his fellows. How not to die. 

Heart thumping in his chest, he willed himself to move forward, sweaty hands gripping the bottom of his shirt. He was almost thankful now that they had taken his clothes and given him a ratty uniform, knowing that when (because it was  _ when)  _ he escaped, he would be sweating and covered in grime from the ship. 

He tried to keep his footsteps quiet against the wooden floor, but try as he might, boards groaned as he stepped, and the hard heels of his shoes seemed to echo louder than any corridor in parliament. 

Then, he felt it, the breath on his neck, making the very hairs on his skin stand to attention — Instinct flaring, Thomas wheeled, punching his attacker square in the face as hard as he could, and preparing himself to knee the person in the crotch — 

“Fuckin’--” 

Thomas took several steps back, hugging the wall with his fists out, the man’s voice quiet against the literal drumming of his blood in his ears. 

The attacker had his face covered with his hands, hunched in on himself slightly. He let out a short groan, then pulled his hands away, revealing a bloody mess over his nose. The man, in full pirate gear, touched his nose, flinched, then looked at his hands, obviously surprised to have been so attacked. 

Thomas, adrenaline rush quickly diminishing, begin to come to his senses. He had punched a man in the face. He had  _ broken a man’s nose.  _

“Jesus, one hell of a right hook,” the man said, hand cupped under his nose, chin jutted out so that none of the blood dripped onto his costume. 

_ Costume.  _

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Thomas patted himself down, removing his handkerchief from the loaned trousers he was wearing, now coming closer to the actor and offering it out. The man took it, first soaking up some of the pool from his hand before dabbing lightly at his nose, likely in the least tender areas. 

_ Captain Flint’s horror ship and Pirate-themed team building experience.  _ His department’s attempt at getting everyone to  _ please  _ stop in-fighting and to  _ please  _ get along better because the newspapers  _ really  _ needed to stop being fed rumours about how no-one in the party got along.

Team leader Thomas, one of the only people most of the department actually  _ liked  _ had been pitted against the leader of HR, who, Thomas had been told, was going to be tormented by even his own teammates that day. 

But, upon entering, Thomas’ teammates had spread out, already planning their dastardly deeds, then had been quickly captured, leaving Thomas all alone in the dark. 

“Have I broken it?” Thomas asked, hands fidgeting in the air, not knowing what to do with himself. “Should I call for assistance? Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”

“Nervous?” the actor asked, definite humour in his voice, despite the definite blood still gushing from his nose. 

“I hate the dark, I hate surprises, and I hate horror films,” Thomas said, most definitely babbling. “I also hate my colleagues, but I’m that’s slightly separate from this experience. ...Is the blood stopping? Is there a toilet nearby?” 

“You must be Thomas.” 

“Yes?”

“Captain Flint,” the actor said, making his voice vaguely gruffer and supposedly more terrifying. “Also James McGraw. We spoke over email.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Businessman and Politician kicking in, Thomas held out his hand, shaking James’ unbloodied one. “Then is it bad to say I’m glad it’s you I punched?”

“For putting you through the experience?”

“Oh, no, that’s hardly your fault. Because you’ll know who I need to talk to about insurance and such.” 

James blinked, looking at Thomas with incredulity, then cracked a smile. “You really are a politician.”

“Well,” Thomas said, “I’d rather that than have punched a poor part-timer without access to Private facial reconstructive surgery.”

“Does everyone you know have access to Private facial reconstructive surgery?” 

“Yes?” Thomas admitted, “But that was  _ meant _ to have been a joke.”

“Right.” James was evidently attempting to make himself look like he didn’t find Thomas a complete tosser, schooling his grin into a thin-lipped approximation of ‘serious’. “So you won’t be paying to fix my perfect nose?” 

“Oh God of course I will, name the price, the surgeon.” 

“Because God forbid this makes it to the Daily Mail?”

“Because you’re an actor, and I’ve just punched you in the face, causing a possibly irreversible change to the, you know,  _ moneymaker _ .” 

“Huh.”

“A bit too objectifying?”

“Not been called an actor in a long while.”

“Is that not what you are?” 

“Not according to a lot of people  _ ‘in the business’ _ .”

“Ah,” Thomas said, putting a lot of understanding in it. “Try being a Politician wanting to convince the people that you really are attempting to help.”

“An honest Politician, yeah, bit of a hard sell.” 

“It can be hard when even the people you work with don’t believe you.”

James nodded. “Half the guys I work with are convinced I’m an honest-to-God gangster and that this is a money-laundering front, the other half think I’m the undead ghost of  _ the  _ Captain Flint.” 

“The fictional character?”

“The fictional character.”

“And are you an undead pirate?”

“I’m definitely not a gangster,” James said, leaving the punchline hanging between them. 

“You do make a believably terrifying Captain.”

“Yeah, got that.” James patted his nose with the long-drenched handkerchief, now thankfully at a trickle rather than a gush. James looked at the handkerchief, then at Thomas, and squinted in thought. 

“You look conniving.” 

“I am. Would you like to have some fun?” 

“That really depends,” the adult in Thomas asked, even while the fun-wanting teenager continued with a “What were you planning?”

 

-

 

The crew of actors had been patrolling the brig where they were holding the ten politicians hostage for nearly an hour now, and they were beginning to lose steam. There were really only a couple of times key phrases could be recycled before the illusion of reality shattered, and only so many times one could say ‘arr, get ye back from the bars’ before everyone got bored. 

It was a locked-room style puzzle, but most contestants lost interest within minutes due to the difficulty of it, knowing that the easiest way for the game to end was to wait for the team leader to come and initiate the alternate ending: a fight with copious amounts of prop blood and fake weapons. 

A couple of the contestants had sneaked their mobiles in, and were playing  _ heads up  _ in the corner where they thought the pirates couldn’t see, and a couple of the pirates had snuck out through the fire escape for a smoke break. 

Without warning, the lights were dimmed, the speakers playing an ominous gust of wind effects, mimicking the sound of candles being blown out. Then, from down the hall, metal scraping against metal. 

The pirates, perking up, drew their weapons. “Captain?” Billy called out, trying to sound assertive to mask the fact that this was not something that they had every rehearsed. 

Silver, always one to play into the fiction, began stamping, his go-to trick to amp up players and crewmates alike. A couple of the others, coming back in from their smoke, began snickering, tapping on the cell bars to get the players back into attention. The players, once again absorbed, began stretching themselves and throwing out the occasional ‘save us!’ 

The tell-tale hiss of the smoke machine reassured the actors that this was just some impromptu drama on James’ part, a couple of the pirates beginning to start their NPC bullshit: spreading rumours about the horror of Flint, what they had in store for them, etcetera, etcetera. 

Silver was struck on the back and, trained to fall on hit, he went down, only barely managing to mask his confusion as pain. The blood capsule on his front burst as he went down, spreading a pool of blood as he lay on the planking. 

A ripple of horror went through the pirates, who began to raise their weapons at the fog. The players, not knowing what was happening, began to cheer.

Out of the fog stepped a man the pirates assumed was Thomas: tall, and with a wicked grin on his face. Except he was dressed in pirate costume, splattered in blood, and was dragging a bloodied James along after him by the ponytail. 

“Now, which of these pirate scum should I kill next?” Thomas asked, adopting his best Flint-esque voice. 

“Let them go,” James said, giving a cry of mock pain as Thomas pretended to grip him harder. 

“Uh, uh, uh,” Thomas taunted, “Not until they learn from your mistakes.” He lifted James to his feet, the pair feigning Thomas’s strength, then pulled James into a kiss. At this, the crowd went silent, both sides in awe: that Thomas could be so commanding, and that Flint could be so manhandled. 

“Which one first,” Thomas asked, turning James towards his co-workers. James kept silent, snarling at Thomas. “I said, which one next,  _ dear _ ?”

James spat his blood at the floor, giving Thomas the chance to shove him down to his knees. 

“You,” Thomas said, pointing at Billy, “Your choice, join me or watch your Captain die.” 

Billy, weapon trained Thomas, glanced at Flint, who gave him nothing in return. Slowly, Billy raised his arms, coming to stand by Thomas’ side. “Good. Now, free my people.”

Billy crouched to Flint’s side, unhooking the metal keys from his belt, then went over to the jail, unlocking the gate to the continued (anachronistic) cheers of Thomas’ co-workers. 

“Weapon up,” Thomas said, to the continued excitement of his crew, the pirates occupying themselves with getting into a formation despite the oddity of the theatricality. 

Then, running out of cool things to say, Thomas let out a battle cry, took out his decorated nerf-gun and shot some pirates. 

The crew, unnerved by Flint’s injuries, and without him taking the lead, were far more immersed than usual, and fought as if their lives actually depended on it. 

Flint, now forgotten at the back of the room, stood himself up, gave himself a little brush down and watched until only Thomas (who had been bodily protected from harm by his department,) and Billy remained. 

James then peeled himself from the shadows. He nodded at Billy who stood down, going to ‘check on’ his friends. 

Watched by all the ‘dead’, who remained lying on the floor around them, James and Thomas began circling one another, swords drawn. 

“Any last words?” Thomas asked, feeling cocky now that he was faced with James’ injured face. 

“You will come to regret this, Thomas Hamilton.”

Thomas laughed, channeling the melodramatic villain, then launched himself at James, sword drawn. 

They’d not practiced fighting, but James allowed Thomas a couple of hits, until Thomas parried, remembering his schoolboy fencing days. Sensing an actual challenge, James began to really fight, not pulling his blows, and Thomas not giving an opening. 

That was, until they were locked in combat, Thomas over Flint, sword against his neck, and Flint kissed him. 

Thomas, surprised, but also melting, slightly, with it, lessened the pressure of his sword, allowing Flint to drop his sword, grab his dagger from his belt, and stab Thomas in the stomach, bursting the blood capsules on the crossguard. There was a gasped ‘no’, from the players, some even softly crying out Thomas’ name.

Thomas, stunned, stumbled backwards, dropping his own sword to press his hands against his ‘wound’. Then, legs giving out, he dropped to his knees. 

“You have betrayed my for the last time, my love,” Flint said, putting his bloody dagger to Thomas’ neck. 

“Mercy, please,” Thomas said, hands gripping Flint’s trousers to supplicate him. “I love you, James.”

James gave Thomas an Oscar-worthy look of agonised tragedy, before slitting the blood capsule on Thomas’ neck. 

There was silence as Thomas fell to the ground…

And then the players began to clap, moved to applause and instantly breaking character as cadavers. 

 

-

 

James let Thomas use his room to get changed, not really wanting to submit the man to the actors’ shared showers downstairs. As James lived above the building, he stripped out of his own costume, using a wet-wipe to wipe as much of the blood and stage make-up from his face as possible. 

“It was really rather thrilling,” Thomas said, coming out from James’ bedroom in his shirt and suit trousers, still buttoning it up. “Thank you for letting me seem like I’m actually a cool person.” 

“Thank you for letting me fuck with my asshole employees.”

“I think one of the guys from HR recorded your speech, by the way. I think he’s tagged this place on… one of the social medias.”

“Won’t that fuck with your career?” James asked.

“What, dressing up as a gay pirate? Oh, I’m rather looking forward to the slam campaign published in the Evening Standard, blurry screen captures and all. That is,” Thomas said, “If you’re comfortable with it, I can very easily get the man fired for slander if it’ll affect your business?”

“If it stops homophobes from coming, then that’s only a plus in my books,” James said with a shrug.  

“I quite agree.” 

Thomas patted his pockets, making sure he had his wallet, keys and phone, then when satisfied, went to grab his jacket. “Okay, well, thanks again for the experience, and I’ll be in touch about the nose, which,  _ again _ , I am horrifically sorry for.”

Thomas reached into his jacket pocket, removing a business card from a metal case. He took a small pen from another pocket, scribbled his personal number below his business one, and handed it over.  

“For the nose,” James said, taking the card and reading the number.

“Oh, no, the insurance claim will go through my business email,” Thomas said, smiling, “That’s my number, so you can call me. That is, if you want to.”

James looked up from the card, licked his lips, then nodded. “This is…”

“In the gay way, yes.”

“Oh. Great.” James pocketed the card. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, James, I’m quite sure.” Thomas gave James a grin, before his phone vibrated, reminding him that he had a coach to catch. “I really do have to go, though.”

“Yes. Yeah. Yes. Please,” James said, opening his door for Thomas. “Here, you’ve got some…” James pointed at some blood on Thomas’s face, smudged on Thomas’ top lip from their kiss. Thomas looked at him, then leaned forward, tilting his head closer to James’ reach. 

James slowly brought his hand up to Thomas’ lip, gently wiping away the blood and Thomas, feeling more confident than he’d perhaps ever felt, kissed James’ thumb. James lingered for a second, until Thomas’ phone vibrated again and Thomas reluctantly pulled away. 

“To be continued, Captain Flint.”

“To be continued,” James parroted, and Thomas took off at a light jog down the hall. 

-

 

“I just don’t get why you killed me first,” John sighed, wiping blood off of the front of his costume, “When we all know I tell the best stories, and I didn’t get to see James getting snogged.” 

  
  



End file.
